


run away with me

by lagaudiere



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lagaudiere/pseuds/lagaudiere
Summary: Chloe rifles through one of her bags and triumphantly produced a CD. "Made us a road trip mix. It's like, almost as good as the one from when we were twelve.""What's this one called?" Max asks as Chloe reaches over to press play."Um, Max and Chloe's Super Awesome Runaway Teenage Lovers Soundtrack, of course," Chloe says.****The one where Max and Chloe get married in Las Vegas





	run away with me

**Author's Note:**

> this is wildly self-indulgent and also ignores completely the ending of lis season one 
> 
> thanks for reading -- i'm on tumblr @ spacesocialist

The first thing Chloe did when Max took over driving on the interstate was starting making fun of the signatures in Max's yearbook.    
  
"'Thanks for everything, Max! Hope to see you at a gallery show someday! XOXO, Victoria.' Christ, who does she think she's kidding. Oh my God, Warren wrote like an essay."    
  
"Stop it," Max laughs. She couldn't help feeling a little bit of camaraderie with Victoria, after everything that had happened.    
  
"'Hope you'll keep it touch! I miss you already!' When is he gonna give it up! Oh, I almost forgot." Chloe rifles through one of her bags and triumphantly produced a CD. "Made us a road trip mix. It's like, almost as good as the one from when we were twelve."    
  
"What's this one called?" Max asks as Chloe reaches over to press play.    
  
"Um, Max and Chloe's Super Awesome Runaway Teenage Lovers Soundtrack, of course," Chloe says.    
  
The first track starts, and Chloe enthusiastically begins singing along, over Max's "Oh no--not this..."    
  
"It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do," Chloe sings to her with a faux-flirtatious head toss that Max found cuter than she should have. "Hey baby..."    
  
Max can't resist joining in. "I think I wanna marry you."    
  
***   
In a hotel room somewhere near what Chloe promises her GPS says is the Nevada state line, Max starts to panic.    
  
There was a plan, Max reminds herself while Chloe pores over the 24 hour room service menu. The plan involved a considerable amount of stolen money, but that didn't make it a bad one. She'd already saved the day with her now-vanished time traveling powers in a bunch of different ways, so this wasn't so unreasonable. All they had to do now was leave a note for Joyce, slip off to, at Chloe's insistence, Las Vegas, get legally married, and head back to Washington where Max would go to art school and Chloe would get her GED and no one would be any the wiser.    
  
When Chloe had come up with the idea, it had seemed much less ridiculous.    
  
"Do you want anything?" Chloe says. "They have Belgian waffles."   
  
Married student housing is way cheaper, Max reminds herself. They'll be able to have their own little apartment instead of cramming into a dorm room; they'll have a bedroom and a kitchen and a shower all to themselves.    
  
She's still panicking slightly.    
  
"Uh, no," she says. "I think I'm good."    
  
Chloe looks over at her, and her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Hey, are you okay, dude?" she says softly. "You look really freaked out."    
  
Max smiles a tense smile. "I'm fine," she says. "I guess it's just..."    
  
Chloe crosses the room to where Max is sitting on the bed and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Max," she says firmly. "If we're gonna get married, we gotta be able to talk about stuff."    
  
Max can't stop herself from laughing a little hysterically at that. "Come on," she says. "Don't you realize how crazy that sounds?"    
  
Chloe just smiles, and kisses Max on the nose. "Yeah, it's crazy," she says. "Everything we've done is sort of crazy, though, right, Mad Max? And it's worked out okay so far."    
  
She runs her fingers through Max's hair and Max smiles. "Yeah," she says. "I guess you're right."    
  
"Besides," Chloe says, "this means no one's gonna be able to separate us."    
  
She says that so sincerely and with so much conviction that Max wants to cry, and she leans in and kisses her for a long, slow moment.    
  
They both order Belgian waffles and eat them in bed, Max reprimanding Chloe for getting whipped cream on the sheets, and it seems, right then, like it's going to be easy.    
  
***    
"We should go to a chapel with Elvis," Chloe says. "It's like, hella traditional." 

“This doesn't seem like it's going to be very traditional,” Max says. 

They're looking at a row of dresses at Macy’s; Max thinks they're probably meant to be prom dresses. They all look a little stupid, a little immature. 

It's not like they can afford real wedding dresses; they knew they wouldn't be able to swing that. But Max never really fantasized about wearing a wedding dress anyway, not like other girls say they do.

“Do you like any of these?” Chloe says, sounding skeptical as she flips through the rack of dresses. “I mean, it's not like we went to prom, so. This is our chance.” 

Max laughs and pulls a pink dress off the rack, covered in sequins and glitter. “What do you think? Can you see me wearing this?” 

Chloe laughs too. “Yeah, no. Maybe we should just get suits.” She pauses and cocks her head to the side, apparently considering this. “We’d look pretty hot in suits.” 

“Maybe if we had time to get them, like, tailored.” Chloe probably  _ would  _ look really hot in a suit. Max is much less sure that she would. 

“Well, we have to get  _ something  _ fancy. We’ll regret it forever if we don't.” 

Max considers this, trying to picture what she would wear to get married, if she could wear anything. It's not something she's thought about before, really. She's not the kind of girl who spent a big part of her childhood daydreaming about marriage or a big poofy dress or making her Barbie dolls act out weddings. She and Chloe were always busy, pretending they were -- 

“I got it,” Max says abruptly, and Chloe raises her eyebrows expectantly. “I know exactly what we’re doing.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and Chloe immediately starts craning her head to try to see the screen. “Max! Lemme see.” 

Max holds her phone above her head. “It's gonna be a  _ surprise _ ,” she says, laughing. “You'll love it, promise.”

She's in luck, because there's probably no place in the world other than Las Vegas that would have what she's looking for so nearby. When they arrive at their destination via cab and and Chloe sees the front of the store, she turns to Max with a wicked grin. 

“Really, Maxine?” 

“Shut up.” Max grabs Chloe’s hands and leads her into the costume shop. “This is going to be perfect.” 

***

They're walking around downtown that night like the worst possible tourists, surrounded by a haze of neon and sound. Chloe is wearing a hat made out of an elaborately twisted balloon and they're both drinking huge frozen lemonades. Everything feels just a little bit surreal, too good to be true. 

 

“Hell yeah,” Chloe says. “They really embrace the kitchiness. You gotta respect that.” 

They stop a little bit further down the street to watch a guy doing magic tricks, turning rabbits into hats and swallowing swords. Chloe looks at him with sharp eyes, looking significantly more interested in magic tricks than she does in most things. 

“Hey,” she says, leaning close to Max, “do you think any of this is real?” 

Max’s eyes widen. “What?” 

“You know.” Chloe waggles her eyebrows conspiratorially. “You had some kind of gift, right? Maybe he could too.”

Max looks again at the man in the top hat, currently juggling sticks of fire and bowling pins. There's no way there's anything magical about that, right? Anyone could do that with enough training. 

But she's never really considered whether there might be anyone else out there who could do what she did, or anything like it. It occurs to her now that this can't possibly be true, that she can't be the only person on earth who was chosen (chosen? randomly selected? spontaneously generated?) in that way. 

“No,” Max says, a little distantly. “There's no way.” 

They watch the performer for a couple more minutes, sipping their lemonade. Eventually, the magician notices that he has a captive audience and enlists Chloe in a complicated card trick. 

“Is this your card?” he asks her, flipping over the queen of hearts. 

“It is!” Chloe says, clapping in a way that sounds, to Max’s ear, a little sarcastic. Max nudges her in the side. 

The magician guy doesn't notice. “Maybe we could make a trade, then,” he says. “Any chance you could find me your phone number?” 

Max attempts to catch Chloe’s eye, but Chloe is looking right at him with a smirk. “Can you do any real magic?” she says, guiltlessly. “Like going back in time?” 

His eyebrows knit together with concern. “Can I --” 

“Because I'm here with my fiancée,” Chloe says, and she takes Max’s hand. “And she can do real magic.” 

Max succeeds in keeping a straight face until Chloe snatches the card straight out of the guy's hand. 

“You know I can't time travel any more, right?” she tells Chloe later. “I think that was a limited time thing.” 

“Maybe, but you're still magical,” Chloe says, with the flavor of Chloe sarcasm that covers up sincerity, and Max reaches for her hand and holds on tight.

***   
The next day, Chloe insists they go to a casino. She's got fake IDs and everything just for the occasion. 

Max hasn't ever been in a casino before, and so far it's pretty unpleasant. The whole place is full of smoke and loud yelling and laughter, and it's more than a little overwhelming. 

“You have to admit this is pretty lame,” she tells Chloe skeptically as they feed plastic coins into the Indiana Jones-themed slot machines. “How much have you won so far, three dollars?” 

“Five,” Chloe laughs, spinning her plastic casino card. “What, you're not having fun? This is our bachelorette party, kind of. Maybe we should've gone with strippers.” 

Max can't help laughing in surprise, and when Chloe looks at her with a wide, self-satisfied grin, she just starts laughing harder. It goes on for long enough that Chloe dissolves into laughter too, and for a long moment they're just leaning against each other, helpless to stop. 

Then there's a loud, pointed cough behind them, and Max looks up to see a woman behind them tapping her foot with impatience. Max catches Chloe’s eye and claps a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle another laugh, but just snorts instead. 

“Oh my god, let's go,” Chloe says, eyes sparkling. She grabs Max’s hand and tugs her towards the bar. 

Buying alcohol with IDs that say they're twenty-one sends a thrill up Max’s spine. It feels like another in a long string of slightly miraculous occurrences, things they shouldn't be getting away with but somehow, gloriously, are. The bartender barely gives them a second glance. 

Max hasn't ever ordered a cocktail before, but Chloe suggests vodka cranberries and they taste surprisingly good. They each drink two before Chloe starts trying to teach Max the rules of video poker. 

Maybe it's the alcohol, the strange and hazy atmosphere, but Max doesn't feel quite real. Maybe she's gotten too used to things in her live being impermanent and reversible, a function of the magic that visited their lives and then disappeared.

She worries, sometimes, that the magic of Chloe being here, Chloe wanting her, is going to disappear too. 

“Chloe?” Max says hesitantly, and reaches out to catch her hand. 

Chloe looks at her happily, with a soft, contented smile, and that makes the anxious fluttering in Max’s brain settle down a little. It must be significant, that Chloe looks at her like that. It must mean they're doing something right. 

“Yeah?” 

“We don't have any rings,” Max says. “We should get those, right? For tomorrow?” 

Chloe's eyes go wide immediately. “Oh, shit,” she says. “Dude, I can't believe I forgot to do that.” 

She looks so abruptly and genuinely guilty that Max can't help laughing again, feeling lightened by vodka and Chloe. 

“We’ll get them,” Max says after a moment, still giggling and still holding Chloe’s hand. “Let’s get another drink first.”

*** 

They get the rings after about a couple hours of searching, and they're nothing special or particularly flashy. They're sterling silver and mostly plan, with small blue gemstones in the center. The color reminded Max of Chloe’s hair. 

They're keeping them at the bottom of Max’s messenger bag, waiting for the ceremony, such as it is. Max can't wait to put hers back on. 

At diner they go to late that night, Chloe finally answers her phone.

"Yeah, we're in Las Vegas," Chloe says impatiently. "Yeah, mom, it's totally fine. We're safe."    
  
She makes a face at Max across the diner table they're sitting at, and Max winces. Joyce wouldn't approve of what they're eating -- the French fries are too greasy and the milkshakes are too thin.    
  
She can almost hear Joyce's tone of voice, too, her disapproval and her worry.   
  
"I know," Chloe says. "I was going to tell you. I'm telling you now, right?" Max can see a flicker of guilt appear on Chloe's face and then get swallowed back down.    
  
Max pulls at a loose thread on her shirt. She's been worried about this, among at least a dozen other things. There aren't a lot of people from Arcadia Bay she cares about ever seeing again, but she cares about Joyce. What if she doesn't approve, what if she never gets over it, what if Max's parents don't, what if Chloe--    
  
"Yeah, it's what I want," Chloe says. "Don't be -- what? I know what I'm doing, mom!"    
  
She sighs and rolls her eyes pointedly at Max. "I don't know. I'll ask." She covers the phone with her hand, probably ineffectually, and asks  Max, "Will you talk to her?"    
  
"Uh, okay," Max says, and accepts the phone. She takes a deep breath and then holds it up to her ear. "Hi, Joyce."    
  
"Max," Joyce's voice says, heavy with significance. "When is this happening?"   
  
"Um." Max's heart thumps painfully in her chest. "Tonight?"    
  
Joyce sighs heavily. "I couldn't persuade you to wait any longer than that?"    
  
Chloe, who can obviously still hear her, mouths "no" across the table at Max, shaking her head.    
  
"I don't think so," Max says. "We have kind of a tight schedule. You know, to get everything done before school starts."    
  
"Well," Joyce says. "I hope you're at least going to send me some photos from my daughter's wedding."    
  
"Uh -- what?"   
  
Joyce laughs a little bit. "Max. It's fine. I always suspected the two of you would run away together someday. As long as this is what you both want and she's not just dragging you into some crazy scheme --"   
  
"Mom!" Chloe hisses, at the same time as Max, heart light with relief, says, "No, of course not."    
  
"Alright then," Joyce says, sounding completely calm. "You just make sure I get some photos."    
  
Grinning, Max looks across at Chloe, smiling equally wide and joyful. "Yeah, of course," she says.    
  
"Good," Joyce says. "And Max? You make sure she goes to college as well."    
  
Chloe does another exaggeratedly eye-roll, and Max kicks her shin under the table. "I'm working on it," she says.    
  
***   
They get up super early in the morning just because they can't stay asleep. It's like Christmas morning as a little kid, when you know that you parents won't let you go downstairs until eight, but that doesn't stop you from waking up at six anyway. 

They get dressed in separate rooms, trying to preserve a little bit of the mystery of wedding outfits. 

“Are you ready?” Chloe calls from the bathroom. “I'm so psyched for you to see this look.” 

Max smoothes down her blouse nervously. “Yeah, I'm ready.” 

She's wearing an outfit carefully selected for her by Chloe, but she hadn't tried it on in front of her in the store. Black slacks, billowing white shirt, black vest, a bandana and an eyepatch. To top it all off, there's a plastic sword at her side. Looking at herself in the mirror, she knows it's ridiculous. There's no way of getting around that. But she does like the way it looks, transforming her into something out of her and Chloe’s childhood playacting. It's comfortable, in a way that a fluffy white dress wouldn't be. It's  _ them _ . 

Chloe swings open the door and immediately breaks into a beaming smile. “You look  _ perfect _ ,” she says.

She's got on a tropical skirt that reaches almost to the floor and a matching shirt covered in floral print. Her bangles and necklaces and earrings are all plastic, but she wears them like they're real gold, and she's got the bandana and sword to match Max’s. 

She puts her hand on her hip and poses, looking at Max from under her eyelashes. Max is abruptly breathless. “What do you think?” she says. 

“Uh -- even more perfect,” Max says, and Chloe crosses over to her and traces Max’s lower lip. 

“We really made the right choice on this one,” she says. “The pictures are gonna be epic.” 

Max smiles and winds a string of Chloe’s hair around her finger. “Well, we have the something blue,” she says. “Something new are the outfits, I guess.” 

“We’re something old,” Chloe laughs. 

“What about something borrowed?” 

Chloe pulls a slip of paper out from behind her ear, folded into a tiny square. “I've still got this,” she says, holding out the queen of hearts card. 

***

It's a simple thing, a wedding. Chloe cries when she says her vows, and Max cries when she slips the ring onto Chloe’s hand, and has to lift up her eyepatch to wipe away the tears. 

“You may now kiss the bride,” the Elvis impersonator says, to either or both of them, and Chloe pulls Max into a dip like they're ballroom dancing, kissing her long and sincere and sweet.

For a moment, Max would swear she feels something like the sensation of rewinding through time, except that it’s in reverse, and it's like the whole of her future is washing over her. It seems infinite, right then, and it's not like she can see any detail, but there's a fuzzy happiness to it. And Chloe is there, of course; Chloe is always there. Chloe is what makes it possible. 

“Can you believe we did that?” Chloe asks her when they break apart, her face still inches from Max’s and tears still sparkling in her eyes. 

Max laughs and raises a hand to Chloe’s face, touches her soft skin and the sharp angle of her jaw. She's real; she's the most real thing Max knows. 

“Yeah, I believe it,” she says. “Race you to the bottom of the church steps?”

But when Chloe turns and with a smile and runs, she doesn't let go of Max’s hand. 


End file.
